


Eight Seconds

by Jesse



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Andreja belongs to Nina, Fletch is my Guardian, I just wrote Trencher dying, Nothing pertaining to the story, Trencher belongs to Brandon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 21:32:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12873456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jesse/pseuds/Jesse
Summary: A Titan falls.// No plot-relevance or canon characters other than Devrim Kay's unwritten voice. //





	Eight Seconds

**Author's Note:**

> If you're reading this, thanks.

The smell of electrical smoke was ever-present in his nasal receptors. Fletch’s hands curled tightly into fists as he ran, all weapons currently holstered. His boots thudded loudly on a fallen tree as he used it as a quick stair to launch himself airborne, not taking the time to enjoy the fresh air on his face as he usually did. As his feet neared the ground, the Exo’s fingers curled, Blinking quickly to teleport himself forward, feet back on the ground. He could feel packed dirt in his treads as his boots began scraping the ground once more, pushing himself forward, almost faster than he’d ever ran before. 

Blinking again, the Warlock landed heavily on impact, his cybernetic knees only feeling the pressure, no pain. He was blind to it. Fingertips touched the ground for a brief second to regain his footing, the toes of his boots pressed into the dirt to push himself off to a running start again. Energy blasts whizzed by his exposed head, Fletch paying none of them any mind. His helmet was back with what remained of his team, and he wasn’t going back for it. He wasn’t ever going back.

Feather whizzed dangerously close to him, near his shoulder, not saying a word, but Fletch knew that the Ghost was doing everything in his power to keep his vocals on shutdown. 

The loud sound of a nearby cannon firing did not deter Fletch, his quick pace not skipping a single step. The trees that he rushed by all seemed to look the same, and if not for the fact that he’d been running in a straight line, he might think that he was going in circles. Devrim’s voice called out to him over the comms again, and Fletch ignored it. Two more attempts from Devrim to contact him not even five minutes later had Fletch disabling the link, leaving radio static overtaking his aural receptors. He didn’t want to listen to anyone. He didn’t need anyone anymore.   
  
Everything seemed almost in slow motion as he ran, feeling every curve of his foot press against the ground in full as his body pushed itself forward as quick as he could possibly go, the dull heating of individual circuits in his systems now beginning to get agitated with his rapid, unceasing movements. The wind brushing over the static, blended with the sounds of fingers on carbon triggers that brought forth sounds of energy discharge at his person. Discharge striking trees; the sound of wood crackling as it caught fire. The heat of the flames as burning branches fell to the ground, sparks flying before his eyes and threatening to deter him.

Yet he ran. 

He ran from everything. He ran because running was what he was good at. He ran because when he did, he had the chance to become something that he wasn’t. He ran to prove that he was just as great as the Guardian that he had been denied the privilege to become. He ran to make Trencher proud.

Or he had.

Now, he ran to escape - something that he had never once before done. 

His foot caught a loose stone, tipping his body over his feet, and not being able to activate Blink quick enough. The Exo’s body propelled forward, down the hill he had been coming up on, tumbling mercilessly down dirt and rock. His body curled into itself, allowing him to corkscrew as best he could until he reached a lesser momentum, hands flying out to grab whatever he could to steady himself and slow his descent. Had he been an organic being, he might have sustained injury or suffered from motion sickness, but he wasn’t. Exo were strong, nothing could hurt them. 

At least he had once thought so.

Staggering to his feet, Fletch pressed both toes into the dirt, preparing to take off running again.. but couldn’t find the energy to push off. Slowly, against his own will, his body turned to face the direction from whence he came, relieved to see that no one had followed him. Everyone was now with Trencher, as they should be. Handling his body, most likely preparing to bear his corpse back to the church. 

Fletch closed his optics, feet gently pressing off the ground in a slow walk. He couldn’t run anymore. He was a disgrace. He should be there with his Fireteam, helping to carry Trencher back, to honor him. Respect him for all he had done for them. For him. But he wasn’t. He had chosen to run, like a coward. 

Running away from feelings was what he did best of all.

To make things worse, he’d been  **right there.** He was standing so close to Trencher when it happened. The Exo and the Fallen Captain were locked together in physical combat, both their weapons dry and barrels long-since cold. Any attempt to fire at the Captain ran the risk of striking Trencher, and so it was those two that were fated to fight until one of them fell.

And then Trencher had pulled out the damn grenade.

“You wouldn’t use that up close,” the Captain had sneered, his voice still ringing loudly in Fletch’s head.

“Wanna bet?” Trencher had replied.

As the Captain made an attempt to throw a mighty punch, the Fallen’s fists were then gripped in Trencher’s giant palms, the Titan’s feet braced firmly on the ground, holding his position. Fletch had inwardly admired his perfect harmony of strength and balance. The grenade in question had been dropped harmlessly on the ground, not yet having been activated, and the Captain knew it. 

Trencher was left to his own devices as Fletch had to turn his attentions elsewhere, not wanting to get shot down while he played a captive audience. Reloading Sunshot, the young Exo lobbed his own grenade into the nearby gutted building, watching electrical arcs explode inside the confines of closed walls. The four Fallen within promptly fell to the ground, twitching for as long as the grenade’s effects ravaged their bodies, but not at all after. The toes of his boots planted firmly on the ground, Fletch rotated his body around enough to slam his elbow into the face of an approaching footsoldier, finishing off his downed enemy with a single shot from the pistol. He watched for a moment as the Fallen’s body violently shook, only to explode into a giant splash of molten remains, making a mess. He loved that gun.

Andreja was reloading her own gun, steadfast behind her shield, not paying any mind to the plights of anyone that wasn’t in her way. Fletch did notice that she was keeping an eye on Trencher, but was letting him fight his own fight. In a way, Fletch was rather jealous, being stuck on a team with two Titans, when it should have been three. They all could have gotten the job done easy. Maybe he was dragging the team down.

A glint of sunlight happened to catch his eye in that moment, Fletch’s optics quick to track down the source. A lone sniper was camped on the roof of the northwest building, and even from his rapid glance, Fletch knew that his scope was trained on Trencher. “Sniper!!” he called out, both Titans visibly hearing his warning, their bodies physically shifting, as if tensing.

Knowing that there was nothing that Trencher could do, and he’d honestly rather have Andreja near him in case shit hit the fan, Fletch made a beeline for the dilapidated building, his feet almost not even touching the crumbling stairs as he ran up as quickly as he could. He hated having to leave Trencher in his predicament, but there wasn’t much he could do, save knocking off this sniper that threatened to blow his circuits out. 

As it was with all snipers, he was already prepared to face Fletch, made apparent by the fact that he was now on his feet when the Warlock made his way up onto the roof. And yet, despite that, Fletch watched with wide eyes as the sniper’s finger on the trigger pulled it back, the sound of the shot fired like a nightmare resounding in his head. He ran to the edge of the rooftop, feeling more than relieved to see Trencher still standing, throwing a punch at the Captain. Andreja was yelling for some reason. Fletch felt a sudden blow to his own face as the marksman solidly hit him with his rifle, the butt of the gun connecting directly to his cheek and sending his body spiraling backwards as he tried to regain his footing. The sniper charged at him, Fletch eager to meet him, the Fallen’s hands becoming locked into his palms just as Trencher had done only moments before. If only the Titan could see him now. 

Mouthplates shifting into a wicked grin, Fletch curled his fingers tightly, feeling the finger bones of the sniper snapping in his grip. He ignored the wailing screams of the Fallen, bringing up a leg and planting his foot into the sniper’s chest, letting go of his hands in the same instance. The soldier went reeling backwards, trying to hold his mangled hands but not really knowing how. A quick burst from Sunshot then had his superheated remains splattered over the floor. Easy.

Not wanting to waste any more time, Fletch leapt off the rooftop, letting himself glide down easy as he neared the ground. Andreja was still yelling at Trencher, who was in the middle of connecting his mighty fist to the Captain’s face, sending him reeling. 

There was.. something off about Trencher. A look of devastation that was unmistakable on his robotic features, an emotion that Fletch had never seen on Trencher before. Something wasn’t right. 

Holstering Sunshot, only to pull out Nameless Midnight, Fletch began firing single shot bursts at the Captain, noting that Trencher was retreating his way back to Andreja. Was he injured? Fletch didn’t know. He just kept shooting, his only mistake being his pause to reload.

The Captain unsteadily rose to his feet, holding his communicator to his mouth. “Bring in that airstrike on my countdown; I don’t care how many of us are down here; get these Guardians dealt with.”

His voice was loud and clear, even amidst the din of war. Fletch was painfully aware of the way that Trencher’s eyes flashed the moment he heard the Captain speak, and almost becoming confused at the way Andreja began yelling at him again, gripping his mighty arm with one of her own. Why would she do that?

Something still wasn’t right.

“Ten. Nine.”

The Captain began his countdown, attempting to flee the heat of battle, ticking down the seconds into his communicator as he started the wind-up to his run. Trencher tensed for a moment, as if frozen where he was kneeling, before he easily pulled free of Andreja’s grasp, breaking into a run of his own, pursuing the Fallen Captain with everything he had in him.

“Eight.”

Fletch watched as Trencher reached down, not breaking his sprint, noting the Exo’s large fingers curling around the grenade that he had dropped earlier.

“Seven.”

Trencher activated the grenade, looking back over his shoulder to glance at.. Fletch? Yet he still kept running, his head turning back to watch his enemy, Fletch having seen those bright green optics for only a few seconds.

“Six.”

It almost seemed like a goodbye.

“Five.”

A cold trickle of understanding slowly started to pool in Fletch’s belly as he watched after Trencher, now slowly becoming aware of what was wrong. Why Andreja had been yelling.

“Four.”

Sparky was no longer at Trencher’s shoulder. He was on the ground, lights out - a clean, precise bullet hole through his casing. No longer moving. The work of a sniper. Trencher could no longer be reanimated.

“Three.”

Like moving underwater, Fletch’s boots pressed into the ground, attempting to run after his mentor, arm reached out towards Trencher like he thought he could reach him. 

“Two.”

Trencher’s body flew at the Captain, arms tackling him around the waist from behind, propelling the Fallen’s body forward. In that same second, a flash of bright light was seen, faster than the sounds that followed it. 

The sound of raw thunder incarnate overwhelmed Fletch’s audials, quickly losing his footing and falling onto his back as the ground shook with vehement fury from the grenade’s area of effect. There was no way that Trencher hadn’t supercharged the damn thing; he’d never seen nor felt an explosion so mighty.

And it would have been awesome - were it not for the fact that Trencher was at the heart of the explosion.

Scrambling to his feet, Fletch resumed his mad run towards Trencher, arms waving the dark smoke from his path as he drew closer to the detonation site.

Two bodies lay there on the ground, unmoving. Andreja was quick to join Fletch as they both made their way towards Trencher, finding him facedown on the ground. Rolling his massive body onto his back revealed deep, irreparable wounds in his chest, the edges molten and dripping, and splashing erratic bursts of sparks. His left hand, the one that had held the grenade, was missing, as was most of his arm, with no signs of it anywhere near them. Just completely obliterated. 

Perhaps to accompany that, Trencher’s face was devoid of light. The familiar, comforting pulsing of neon green that was usually visible even behind closed mouthplates and optic shutters - gone. Dead.

And he could never come back.

Fletch’s fingers shakily touched the ragged, white-hot edges of the grenade wound in Trencher’s chest, molten metal smearing over his fingertips and staining like blood. 

And from few feet away, a new sound was heard. The Fallen Captain shakily staggered to his feet, faint blue shielding around his body flickering faintly. 

He had survived.

“Commander, that airstrike - SEND IT NOW.”

Seeing red was something that Fletch had read in a book, thinking it to be nothing more than a pretty way to describe an emotion that could not be explained until you had felt it yourself.

He was.

Reaching his right hand up behind his back, Fletch’s fingers deftly gripped the handle of Eternity’s Edge, unsheathing the glistening sword from its nesting place across his shoulder blades. It felt like he was once again moving in slow motion as he charged towards the Captain, feeling everything in that moment as it happened, experiencing it in ways that he didn’t want to remember. He felt his systems overload as his Stormcaller abilities surged his circuits, coating the outside of his body with raw, unbridled energy, extending to the blade that he held in his hands. 

He could hear the sounds of screaming missiles heading in their direction, not being bothered to care about them as he continued his advances towards the Captain, who was now focused on staggering backwards, away from Fletch. His ability to run seemed hampered. Yet he kept a smile on his bruised, weathered face, letting the Warlock know that he was nothing short of delighted with the death of his mentor.

Words could not describe the emotion that came with that.

The first strike of his blade into the Captain’s chest landed as the first missile did, tearing open the surrounding area and not concerning Fletch in the slightest. Large chunks of rock and earth flew around the Exo and the Fallen, Fletch landing another easy blow to his target. His feet, hovering several inches from the ground in his overpowered state, prevented him from losing his balance, providing him with another advantage against the Captain, not that he needed it.

Two more missiles struck the earth as the Guardian sliced his blade clean through the Captain’s belly, his shielding gone at that point. Blood began pouring from his mortal body as he reeled backwards, only to force himself from not doubling over to clutch at his wounds.

Explosive matter seemed to melt and dissipate as it got anywhere near Fletch, rendered harmless by the power of storms that radiated off his body. There was nothing that could harm him, not that he cared.

He didn’t.

Eternity’s Edge made its final cut - directly through the Captain’s neck, severing his head completely. 

Fletch didn’t even watch as the Fallen’s lifeless body collapsed to the ground, only hovering there in place as his body slowly turned around. Missiles were still ravaging the area, Andreja protecting Trencher’s body with her own, her shield larger than he’d ever seen. It was held high above them, protecting them both, even though the Exo knew that she was foremost saving Trencher’s body before she would think to save her own.

As chunks of earth and showers of rock flew around his body like a storm, it was quiet. Fletch’s audials ceased to work for a few moments, overtaken by the innermost silence that ravaged his systems, dismantling anything that was deemed unecessary.

A shiny piece of smooth carbon flew through the air from the force of an explosion, Fletch recognizing it as one of Sparky’s sculpted points. Almost by reaction did he look to Feather, who was hovering faithfully near his shoulder, residing in his own silence. Almost by instinct did the Guardian reach out to touch his Ghost, who was quick to press into his hand, which was as emotional as a being of his nature could be in that moment.

Almost as soon as the missiles had started their barrage, they had stopped. Bodies of mangled Fallen littered the upturned area, Andreja’s shield finally crumbling. She leaned over Trencher, her forehead pressed against his chest, Fletch knowing that she was weeping. 

His fingers hooked under the edge of his helmet, pulling it over his head and letting it fall to the ground with a gentle thud. The Exo’s optics shifted to take in the raw sunlight, the heat of the flames burning the area radiating off his plates, not that it bothered him. He slowly moved towards Andreja, arm behind his back to holster his blade, ignoring the fact that it was still dripping with the Captain’s blood. As he drew closer, his feet gently touched the ground, toes first, the light of Storms having faded from his systems. Walking was more difficult than he had anticipated.

Only a few feet away from them did he stop. He was unable to see Trencher’s face, blocked by Andreja, who was still halfway laying overtop his body, as if she were still protecting him. Desperation. Denial.

His feet remained firmly planted on the ground, gloved fingers gently tucking into fists. He didn’t want to see Trencher. He’d seen enough. Just seeing the Titan’s massive boots on unmoving feet was hard enough. There was nothing left for him here.

Pressing off, Fletch began walking to the north, taking him directly past Andreja and Trencher, not looking in their direction as he passed by. 

“Fletch.. where are you going?” Andreja’s voice was full of anger and tears, touched by notes of utmost sorrow and confusion. “.. Fletch..?!”

Toes bearing hard into the ground, Fletch broke into a sprint, ignoring the Titan calling after him, doing his best to block out her voice as he fled. He didn’t know where he was going; he just knew that he had to leave.

And so he ran.

He ran until he could no longer run.

It took everything within him to get back up on his feet after his rough tumble, walking on weighted feet until he reached his ship, grounded proudly right next to Trencher’s.

Only once he had reached orbit, only listening to the soft humming of the engines, did Fletch allow himself to crumble. Knees touched his chest as he drew them up, arms folded around them, head bowed. The sounds of his weeping were gentle, the emotional pain surging his systems far louder than any outcry he could have mustered. It hurt so far worse, and it would never stop.

There was nothing left but that.

**Author's Note:**

> Fletch is able to retain his Voidwalker Blink, as per my own reasoning. Thanks for noticing, though!!


End file.
